“I need a break,” Riann tells us. “So you came at a perfect time.”
Back on the train, he looks out at the city. “My mother was an artist,” he explains to Chrys as the train skims between buildings. “I wasn’t lucky enough to know her, but my father took me to a place where I can see her any time I want. I dragged him with me every chance I could get, and he found every excuse to let me.”
Riann smiles out at the city. “Her work was a little too big to keep at home. All I have is a broken piece of something she never finished, but I think you’re going to love this.”
He leads us off the train and into a building I’ve never visited. It’s mostly residential units, but what he wants to show us is at the very top.
“I still come here once a week.” Riann leads us to an archway labeled ‘Gallery for the Saints.’ “It never fails to clear my head.”
Paintings of glowing beings line walls that curve away, but he ignores them, going directly to a pair of doors carved from ahrenstone.
They glow as the light behind them catches in the hollow pockets inside, and Chrys murmurs appreciatively at the sparkle, but they aren’t what he brought us here to see.
The room is empty when he ushers us in, and Chrys’ eyes go wide as she walks toward the vibrantly glowing window.
“Holy crap.”
Glass painted on glass. The window has a dozen different shades of a dozen more colors. It makes sense here, in a place meant for worship.
Swirling depictions of the saints cast those colors across the floor.
“I’ve been told to stop looking into the wreck,” Riann says quietly while Chrys walks closer, marveling at the work asit casts prisms across her. “They’ve concluded it’s a terrible accident and that is all.”
“Despite Chrys?”
“Chrys is a nightmare in our system. Women should not be able to be abducted from Earth. It puts all three of our treaties in jeopardy. If the humans think we’ll take them without contract or consent, or if the governing board loses its travel permissions through the portals…” He shudders and doesn’t mention the third problem… whatever it is.
“In all of our records, Chrys came here with the Agency. Her paperwork has been backfilled. Her fees have been paid. I’ve seen documents signed by her.”
Even if I didn’t know, I could guess. “They took her signature from work documents, didn’t they?”
“Yes.” He takes a deep breath and watches Chrys appreciate his mother’s work. “Something is wrong and I want to tell you more, but I can’t. The only reason I can tell you what I have, here, is because you could figure it out on your own if you’d taken the time to look.”
“I appreciate the information you can give me.” I don’t like any of it. “I know you could have told me to get lost instead.”
He glances at Chrys. “Honestly, Mary might bring it up the next time they talk, so you might want to make sure she’s aware.”
“I will.”
“Good. Something is wrong,” he says again, like he can’t get it out of his head. “Something that’s going to be more trouble than the Company. I can feel it… I just can’t prove it.”
CHRYS
Back in the car, I feel Risk’s struggle mix with my own. I feelwhen he decides not to fight it.
He drags me into his lap and kisses me, and I can’t find it in myself to scold him.
We’resupposedto be taking a break.
But kissing him feels right.
It feels perfect.
It would be so easy to get lost here with him, drowning in the delight of his lips and the satisfaction in our bond.
He holds my face, keeping me close and holding me back at the same time. “I need a minute,” he says. “Just to breathe.”
It’s a horrible idea, but, “We could go to Margot’s.”
